


Gently Down the Stream

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: "As the two progressed through the cookbooks, Byakuya inserted scraps of paper between pages, to mark the location of recipes that captured their interest. Occasionally, he would sneak a glance at Touko, whose eyes were trained forward. When she concentrated, she admittedly looked rather nice. A painful adjective, but one that he felt comfortable admitting to himself at this stage."Togami and Fukawa plan a picnic.





	Gently Down the Stream

**Author's Note:**

> requested by ikuzonos and matrioshka.

The Togami Conglomerate employed chefs to prepare dishes, so growing up, Byakuya didn’t have reason to learn to cook for himself. Not at home or at the elite schools abroad that he attended. At Hope’s Peak, in the mutual killing scenario thrusted upon everyone, him and the other participants had unrestricted access to the kitchen during the day and evening. With ingredients and ready meals replenished regularly, though where the stock came from, no one knew for certain, those who could cook and those who couldn’t could help themselves to whatever they wanted. To Byakuya, the concept of a meal that required preparation was unfamiliar - every meal that he had ever eaten had been a ready meal, in that it was served to him in an instant.

He had already told Touko all this and more, so it didn’t need reiterating. His hand remained firmly against his chin, holding it in thought.

Tempting though it was to opt for sandwiches and fruit, which didn’t require much culinary experience, Byakuya set down his book, stood up, raised an authoritative finger and announced that they would prepare something more complex for their picnic.

Only one other person was in the library to hear this.

“H-How romantic!” Touko gushed, face aglow with pink paint blush. She barely blinked as she stared up at him, seated opposite. 

Her utterance of the word ‘romantic’ had swooped and hit Byakuya’s gut, but he clicked his tongue and turned his head to one side like it had only been the equivalent of an annoying puff of air on his cheek. Byakuya strode away and started his search. According to a generic textbook, cooking comprised of many methods and techniques, so he would probably need more than one book. There were at least fifteen methods that he needed to know, apparently, with baking, frying and steaming to name a few, so he scoured shelves for different cookbooks. 

When his arms became too laden, he stopped by their table. Touko’s face tensed at the resounding thud of books that landed in front of her. She eyed the pile for a few moments, biting down on her lip, before seeking his eyes with her large, grey pair.

“Darling, let me help. You don’t want to throw out your back with all that heavy lifting,” she said.

He folded his arms over his chest. His hips shifted slightly to one side.

“I’m more than capable of carrying a couple of books,” he said coolly, and she squeaked. Her eyes flashed.

“I... I didn’t mean to insult your intelligence!” she said. “Please, feel free to bend me over your knee!”

Byakuya furrowed his brow, then averted his gaze. Without having to look at her, he could imagine how her eyes would have glazed over by now, how she would have wrapped her arms around herself and begun to tremble. 

“... It’s fine,” he said. “Stay there.”

After another two drop offs of books, by which time she had gulped and calmed somewhat, Byakuya slipped onto the chair beside Touko and  together, they spent the next three hours poring over a great many recipes, whittling down potential dishes that they could have on their picnic until they were left with foods suitable for the occasion. When they first met during the mutual killings, Touko would stutter, blurt an innuendo or grin stupidly at the floor, but sometimes, they would be able to have a normal conversation, and those grew more frequent with time, even if she still stuttered, blurted innuendos or grinned stupidly at the floor.

They had a lot of time here. Now.

One book offered easy recipes. Byakuya hesitated. On one hand, he didn’t like to choose options because they were the safest and most effortless, necessarily, but instead what would produce the best results; however, a simpler, well-prepared meal was more enjoyable than a burnt, imbalanced inedible mess. Risk, time and resources were important factors to take into account, as well as the drive and intelligence of the person making the decision.

The Togami Conglomerate employed chefs to prepare dishes, so growing up, Byakuya didn’t have reason to learn to cook for himself...

It survived the purging. As the two progressed through the cookbooks, Byakuya inserted scraps of paper between pages, to mark the location of recipes that captured their interest. Occasionally, he would sneak a glance at Touko, whose eyes were trained forward. When she concentrated, she admittedly looked rather nice. A painful adjective, but one that he felt comfortable admitting to himself at this stage. 

He didn’t hear the library door open, and he didn’t hear any footsteps, but when he heard another voice, he knew that the door must have opened and there must have been footsteps.

“Good afternoon, Togami-kun,” greeted Makoto, who had strayed in.

Byakuya lifted his head and pushed up his glasses with two slim fingers, not breaking eye contact with Makoto.

“You’re busy,” added Makoto in a light tone. He craned his neck. “Cooking, huh...?”

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Byakuya rested his chin in his palm and flicked his other wrist. “You have a pair of functioning eyes. I’ll give you that.”

Touko tucked in her chin and smirked, side-eyeing Makoto, who frowned at them.

“He has to make do with what little he has,” said Touko. “In more than one area.”

Byakuya nearly snorted. Makoto didn’t so much as blink.

“Are you planning on making dinner for everyone?” asked Makoto.

“You’re nosy! It’s for our date!” hissed Touko. Her face tightened as she tried to restrain her venom and stop her features from contorting too much. It made her look more ill than angry, if only slightly. “And... you’re not invited, so butt out!”

That should have been satisfactory, but Makoto didn’t move. Byakuya pursed his lips.

“You’re wasting our time,” said Byakuya, and Makoto finally stirred.

“Sorry. I’ll see you later, then,” said Makoto, unsmiling, and he turned around. His gaze lingered on Byakuya for some moments, as he looked over his shoulder at them, but then he faced away and headed out of the library, one dull footstep after another.

By late afternoon, the ground in the gardens had ample time to absorb the spray of the sprinklers and the air was fresh and pungent, but the natural aroma was too strong to be, well, natural, and the sky was a constant sunny mid-afternoon blue. Smells can trigger memories, and Byakuya was reminded of picnics at the park even though he had never hosted nor attended anything of the sort until now. A sentimental person may have ached at the artificial scent of long ago freedom.

Byakuya held Touko with one hand, and with the handle of a laundry bag hanging from the crook of his other arm’s elbow, Byakuya led them through the gardens. He inspected their surroundings. Beyond the paths, long blades of grass stood to attention, not ideal for sitting on, and in other areas, shrubs and flowers grew. They pressed on until he found a flat patch of dirt away from the giant, suspicious-looking plant which towered over everyone and everything else. When he touched his fingertips against the dirt, he could brush it off easily afterwards, and he chose this location to lay out the blanket packed at the top of his bag.  

Touko sat quietly on the blanket while Byakuya unloaded the picnic. Despite their misleading surroundings, they were still inside of the building, so the warmth that pushed down on them wasn’t from the Sun. Heat was nonetheless still heat, though, so Byakuya unzipped his jacket and set it down beside him in an untidy pile that would encourage it to crease.

The picnic incorporated sandwiches and plates of fruit, brought along in case of an emergency, but they had prepared two bento boxes too. In them, among other things, was onigiri, some more triangular than others and some rounder than others, with either tuna, pork or salmon in them. Byakuya had made an abundance of them by accident - in the kitchen, Touko had rambled about a book that they had read together, and so his hands had been on autopilot, and the excess onigiri rested on a plate nearby, a monochrome anthill garnished with green onion like tufts of grass. Earlier, she had pleaded for him to let her help, or do all the work for him for when she became a housewife, but he insisted that he prepare their picnic, from constructing each component of the meal to choosing the drinks to deciding on the colour of the blanket.

Purple, in case anyone wondered.

He studied their surroundings with the gaping hole of a bottle of oolong tea at his faintly pursed lips. His hand smeared sweat up his forehead as he budged hair away from his narrowed eyes. Cicadas chirped, though he couldn’t see them. Knowing Monobear, he accepted the possibility that they weren’t really there, but the sounds came from a hidden stereo.

“Good afternoon, Togami-kun. Fukawa-san,” said the devil itself. Monobear slid across the path ahead of them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and pirouetted as it travelled along. It slowed to a standstill in front of them and faced the two students with its usual crooked smile.

Byakuya’s nostrils flared. “What do you want?”

“What’s with that face? Do you think I want to join your twosome? Don’t flatter yourself,” said Monobear with its paws over its mouth. 

The shape of its smile didn’t change, but Byakuya felt like it was smirking. He scowled.

“You’re disrupting our date!” hissed Touko. Byakuya glanced at her and turned back to Monobear.

“Hm?” Monobear cupped its ear and leaned very slightly toward them. “Did you say something? You’ll have to speak up.”

“You...” Touko started, but Monobear waved a paw and resumed talking, speaking over her acid-soaked mutters.

“I’m here with good intentions,” said Monobear. Byakuya and Touko exchanged sceptical looks. “I can see what’s happening, and you don’t have a clue. You’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line...”

Dramatic pause.

“... that’s it.” Monobear lowered its paw so both of its arms hung down by its sides, but only for a moment. It then raised one paw to its mouth. “No, wait. I want to help you with your date.”

“We don’t need your help,” snapped Touko.

The teeth in Monobear’s half-smile, too big, too wide to be hidden behind a paw, glinted like its robotic eye.

“We’re fine,” said Byakuya. “You’re dismissed.”

“Huh? Who’s the teacher here?” said Monobear. It sulked, but most likely, Monobear was just putting on an act, because it recovered quickly. “Aw, don’t be shy, Togami-kun! My services are free.”

“I said no.”

“That’s tsundere for yes. You won’t regret this, upupupu!” 

Monobear brandished a paw. A puff of grey smoke enveloped its entire body and the space around it. As the air cleared, stout silhouettes could be seen in it, initially hazy but then growing more distinct. They were all Monobear units, four in total. One had a wafting cloud of black hair and an electric guitar, one had dark, short, frizzy hair and a bass guitar, another had slicked back blond hair and drumsticks, along with a drum kit, and the fourth had a dark moustache, a white vest and trousers, a yellow jacket and a microphone on a stand.

The Monobear units started to play a slow song.

“Sometimes I get the feeling I was back in the old days, long ago,” sang the Monobear in the yellow jacket, in a surprisingly sombre tone.

Byakuya glowered but if he got up and left, then Monobear would know that it got to him, and he refused to give Monobear any satisfaction. He plucked a bean curd pocket from his bento box and popped it into his mouth. Within the crispy outer layer was a soft, sweet centre, with onions and sesame adding a kick of flavour, and he slowly chewed it all as he listened to the performance by the Monobear units. Surprisingly, they weren’t doing a hamfisted performance, but a rather melancholy one, with only their cartoony appearances chipping the serious, tender, intimate mood that their playing draped over them.

His heart gave a flutter and he turned his head, looking at Touko instead. She watched the four Monobear units quietly and hadn’t touched any of her food yet. 

He sucked his cheeks in slightly and picked up one of the bean curd pockets, and he held it to her lips.

“Here,” he said.

Her eyes widened. Byakuya’s face tightened and prickled, and he waited for her to open her mouth.

“You can't turn back the clock. You can't turn back the tide. Ain't that a shame?” sang Monobear. “I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride, when life was just a game...”

Touko stared at him. Byakuya pouted a little. She had to know that she was looking that sweet on purpose. A sugary, teeth-rotting sweet. His eyes flickered but they drew back to her face. He couldn’t help it. When he swallowed, it echoed in his head.

“You have some sauce on your cheek,” Byakuya said.

Byakuya put down the chopsticks and lightly scratched a fingernail against her skin, taking care not to cause any damage. His finger shook a bit. The touch was innocent, non-sexual, an action that for many would pass without a second thought and soon be forgotten, but here, it lingered, it stained his mind, and he couldn’t control how being so close, so intimate, made him want to vomit up a moth. She stayed perfectly still, not breathing as his finger worked, and worked, and worked. 

Their surroundings seemed to dim. They themselves seemed to dim, and he became uncomfortably aware of his heavier breathing.

Any moment, the world could strain, until it cracked and fractured, and he would crumble with it. He allowed this.

And he would submit to its weight.

Monobear’s voice wafted over them.

“Because these are the days of our lives. They've flown in the swiftness of time. These days are all gone now but some things remain. When I look and I find no change,” sang Monobear.

“There.” Byakuya withdrew his hand. The ends of Touko’s lips curled, and he smiled too. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled.

“Thank you, Byakuya-sama,” said Touko, eyes bright, bathing him in heat more intense than what Monobear programmed into the room. Her gaze coiled around him, and he tilted closer, closer, until one hand landed on her. She gasped. 

Byakuya pulled her onto his lap. Incomprehensible noise from her and him filled his head and he pressed his lips together, fighting to stop his lips stretching outward, but his smile overpowered him, large and shameless, and as the Monobear units neared the end of the song, he sat in silence, staring at Touko, stroking the dark frame of Touko’s portrait like it was her hair.

“Those days are all gone now but one thing's still true. When I look and I find I still love you...”


End file.
